


through the darkness hails the light

by politicalmamaduck



Series: Deora ar mo chroí: Reylo and Irish Mythology [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Historical References, Irish Mythology - Freeform, Newgrange, Pre Christian Ireland, Reylo Fanfiction Anthology, Roman Colonization, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-12-16 22:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/pseuds/politicalmamaduck
Summary: The Roman Empire, led by Emperor Snoke, is trying to colonize Ireland. The night before the winter solstice, there is an awakening in the old ways of magic. Rey and Kylo Ren journey to the ancient tomb at Newgrange for an unexpected discovery.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 Reylo Fanfiction Anthology: Celebrate the Waking.

The long dark was coming. The very air and the ground had changed; they seemed to be receding into darkness, leaving naught behind but cold. The harvest was long laid away; villagers would try to store and save whatever they could. The winds would begin blowing down from the north, and each passing day grew shorter.

The long night would begin, and the village women would tell tall tales around roaring fires to chase away the dark. Each year they prayed, seeking to coax the spring and sun to return once more, to not abandon them to winter’s harsh graces and unforgiving spirit.

Rey shuddered, and drew her cloak more tightly about herself. It was nothing extravagant, nothing as fine as what rich traders wore. But it was hers, it kept her as warm as it could, and it would have to do.

She worked hard each day, tilling her patch and keeping up her little dwelling. She made do, as she had done since she was a girl, and she would pass the dark winter just fine.

This is what she told herself, day after day, year after year.

The passage of time seemed even longer as the dark bled into the weak light more and more, and Rey tried to conserve her candles for the true worst of the winter. She loved the way the flames seemed to wink at her in the darkness, the way they seemed to her to be tiny embers of hope--a reminder that the winter would end and the light would return.

Her village shared a communal harvest; she would take her crops in and receive portions of candles, vegetables, wheat, and so on. They had to depend on one another to survive--and on the goodwill of Unkar Plutt, the portions master. Everyone in the village would bring in their crop, or the labor of their hands, to be assessed. If Plutt found one’s bounty lacking, suspecting that some had been saved and hidden, the portions received would be diminished according to his judgment. Families with children were supposed to receive more, but generally Plutt’s cronies received the most. Rey had worked hard all her life, and Plutt counted on it. He had slapped her more than once for arguing with him, and after that she just kept quiet like her neighbors. He knew he held the village in thrall with his iron key to the grain house--and his equally iron heart.

Many would light their spirit candles in hopes old Plutt would be in a good mood the day the portions went out.

Rey put these memories behind her, and hurried along to finish her last chores before the sun went down. The wind seemed to whisper to her as she went, telling her to pick up her pace. There was much yet to be done.

The portioning and the bonfires would begin soon.

* * *

_Darkness. Rage. Power._

A warrior moved silently in the dark, his sword already dripping with blood from the attack on the enemy village.

Behind him, a small dwelling with a thatched roof went up in flames.

“Sir, the villagers?” Phasma asked from behind him. Her armor glinted in the darkness; a rare and precious possession in these dark times. Few could afford such a kingly--or queenly--suit of armor. Their troops were all armored, though none so handsomely as Phasma.

“Kill them,” he said.

The Master of the Knights of Ren was not known for his magnanimity. He would fight to the death for his emperor, had slaughtered many for the greater glory of his expanding empire. They had built roads across a continent, and brought order and justice through might wherever they went.

Blood ran through formerly green fields that night.


	2. Chapter One

Rey awoke in her small hut with the dawn on the other side of the green island they called home. It was a weak winter sunshine, still grey and dreary even at the bright moment of the sun’s breaking through the dark night.

The darkest night was still yet to come, and Rey tried not to shiver. She wrapped her cloak more tightly about her, and set off to Niima Outpost to obtain her winter portions with the rest of the village. She had hauled in all her previously harvested crops the day before, as the traditions demanded, and was looking forward to a mug of ale and the bonfire stories that night. Her village would celebrate this night and the next in their own way, chasing away the shadows before the dawn that signaled the long dark night was over, and the long winter would begin.

Stories and songs, ale and whiskey, holly and hawthorn.

The long dark had come.

Rey waited until she received her portions to roll her eyes beneath her cloak at crotchety old Plutt. She received a quarter of what she had expected, and she would have to make it last her the winter. She tried to plead her case, but to no avail. She was unable to convince him she hadn’t hidden anything for herself, and she knew other harvesters had suffered similarly, facing Plutt’s wrath for not catching a ginger cat that had made its way about the village. Plutt had offered extra portions to anyone who could catch and skin the cat, fearing it getting into his precious storehouse, but no one did. Rey knew that the cat had secretly been taken in and named Bebe by her only friends in the village, and she would never tell Plutt or anyone else.

She would make do, somehow; she always did.

On her way back home, the wind picked up, causing her cloak to wrap around her legs. Rey stumbled a bit on the pebbles in the path, and caught a glimpse of black wings in the sky above.

A raven cawed, seemingly directly at her.

 _A raven, the symbol of war_ , Rey thought. Would war come to her village? There had not been a battle near Jakku for nearly thirty years.

The wind swept by again, nearly pushing Rey along the path home. She would not worry about what the future had not yet brought to pass. It was best not to dwell on such things before the long dark began.

Rey’s hands seemed to tingle with the cold as she arranged her sparse belongings neatly in her cottage. She caught a glimpse of the bonfires being lit on the horizon, and hurried along to take a good place at old Maz’s side.

Maz Kanata was a renowned storyteller who travelled from village to village every year; she had last been in Rey’s village when Rey was but a child, learning to scrape by without her parents. Some said that she was old enough to have been alive in the time of the Druids, and that she had learned her craft from them. Others said that she could tell your future by looking into your eyes or at your palms, and were soon hushed, for one did not want to tempt fate with superstition.

“One never knows who’s listening in the forest,” an old village matron had reprimanded, slapping a young man’s hand away from another man’s outstretched palm.

Whether she told an epic story or the future or nothing at all, it was an honor to have the old woman visit, and Rey hoped that Plutt had put aside a dram of the best whiskey for her. 

The very air itself seemed to crackle with anticipation of a good story and a raucous celebration. There was a small crowd already around Maz when Rey arrived, grabbing a mug of ale from the beerman and warming herself by the fire. Rey stood alongside her fellow villagers, smiling down at the old woman, who was more wrinkled and tiny than she remembered from her childhood.

“Come, child,” she said, beckoning Rey closer.

“Have you heard tell of the village of Tuanul?” she asked, raising her voice above the villagers’ voices. “Just two nights ago, the village was raided by the Centurions.”

There were murmurs among the crowd, and Finn, Rey’s dear friend, a former soldier, stepped forward.

“Aye,” he said. “Emperor Snoke’s soldiers have long had their eye on the relics from that village. A saint’s bones, or a map to an old temple’s treasure hoard, or something of the like was said to be hidden in that village. They’ll stop at nothing to conquer us all.”

Rey shuddered, even though her back was to the fire. It sounded like Snoke and his soldiers were turning to dark magic to continue their conquest, a sentiment whispered by a few of her fellow villagers after Finn spoke out. Poe, also a former soldier and Finn’s companion, put his arm around Finn’s shoulder, speaking to him quietly. The firelight made the men’s skin glow, and for a moment they looked like angels, beacons of light shining through the darkness.

No one in her village had much, but Rey was grateful for her friends. They had come here fairly recently, recovering from their time fighting against Snoke’s attempt to conquer their whole island. They didn’t speak much about the horrors they had seen, though Rey knew they slept with their swords beneath their bed. It was common for soldiers to share quarters, though Rey knew Plutt did not approve of the relationship between her friends. No one paid them--or Plutt’s dark glowers--any mind, proven by the crowd of young men who hurried to speak to them about the attack on the village.

Of a sudden, the fire seemed to diminish, grow colder and the night darker yet. A chill crept up Rey’s spine despite her proximity to the warmth and the crowd around old Maz, who continued to drift towards Finn and Poe and the ale tables.

She felt as though she was walking down a long, dark tunnel, a strange blue glow about her, but she had not moved from her place at Maz’s side.

She saw a man, a druid perhaps, standing on a hill overlooking the ruins of a temple.

A vision. She was having a vision. Only the old matrons who smacked palms away from reading still whispered about those who had visions, those who were blessed--or cursed--with the gift.

Looking about her, everything else appeared as normal. The villagers talked and clasped hands, passed whiskey and food about.

Rey could scarcely speak before she next saw a dark figure emerge from the shadows and step into the firelight. He was tall, and a black cloak covered a fine suit of armor. His helmet’s visor was down, so she could not see his face. He must have been one of the emperor’s soldiers, but Tuanul was at least a day’s ride on a healthy horse away.

He appeared to look right at Rey, but no one else around her seemed to have noticed. She opened her mouth to speak, and the dark knight plunged his sword into an attacker that was headed straight for Rey without her noticing. The knight who had aimed his pike for Rey was not so finely armored as her savior, though they were clearly from the same legion. The rest of their group stood behind their leader, watching. They were all helmed, and although Rey could not see their faces, she knew they expressed disapproval.

Rey was shaking. The air had grown so cold, and it felt like it was raining, even though she knew it was not.

She whirled back to look at Maz, who nodded at her.

“What was that?” Rey asked, looking back at the knight, who had vanished.

“It calls to you,” Maz said.

“What does?” Rey asked, growing more frightened by the minute. All around her, everyone else was downing ale and whiskey, dancing by the fire. No one else had noticed anything untoward.

“The magic,” Maz said. “You must go, my child. Take your things, and make for Newgrange by the rising sun of the solstice. You will receive your answers there.”

“My answers?” Rey asked. She could not dare to hope. There could be no way that the ancient bard had known her parents.

Her hands were tingling once more, but she knew it could not be from the cold.

 _Magic_.

”The belonging you seek is not behind you, but ahead,” the old woman said, looking up into Rey’s eyes and clasping her hands between her own.

“Whomever you’re waiting for here, they’re never coming back.” This last she said more gently, and quietly, looking up at Rey earnestly.

The tears that had been threatening to spill from Rey’s eyes suddenly fell, and she could not answer the old woman for her attempts to not start openly crying in front of everyone.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Close your eyes, feel it. The light, it has always been there, and it will guide you.”

Somehow, despite the anguished, lonely years of waiting for her family, Rey knew the truth of what Maz was telling her. The magic in the air around them seemed to be whispering, calling to her. She was still reeling from her vision, but she felt an immense connection and gratitude to the old woman, though they had never spoken together before.

Rey had never been a trusting person, not since her parents’ departure. But she knew she could trust Maz Kanata.

All around her, the dancers near the fire continued to whirl and spin, leaping higher and higher. The voices of the village grew more boisterous; the plentiful ale had loosened and loudened tongues. The crowd around Maz had drifted away when Finn had made his pronouncement about the Emperor’s centurions and dwindled to nothing when she and Rey had begun their private conversation.

Rey was alone, as she always truly had been. She dearly loved her friends, but she had been surviving and lonely far too long before they came into her life. Since her family’s abandonment, Rey had never been able to truly trust anyone.

Clasping Maz’s hand once more, she drew her cloak about her and hurried home to gather up her few possessions.


	3. Chapter Two

The raid was an unqualified success, yet Kylo Ren kept having qualms about his Knights’ next mission, no matter how he tried to ignore them.

Kylo desperately wanted to join the Knights of Ren after he swore his allegiance to Emperor Snoke, abandoning his family, village, and traditions to do so. More so than power, which attracted many to swear their allegiance to Snoke, Kylo desired knowledge. His uncle could not teach him what he wanted. His mother had sworn off the use of her own powerful magic, desiring rather to be the chieftess of their village. His father had no magic, and thus was useless to Kylo’s pursuits before his death.

Kylo would never know for certain in this realm who shot the arrow that caused his father to fall, but in the depths of his soul he knew it had been his own.

Snoke greatly wanted Kylo to kill his own family. He had claimed his slain father as done by his own hand, but he would never put blade nor bow to his own mother.

His master was wise, but Kylo still felt the call of his uncle and mother’s magic, the light magic of his people. Snoke was a conqueror, one who sought to impose his will, his order upon the unruly tribes that numbered the green hills of Kylo’s home.

Kylo read the spirits and omens, using his grandfather’s helm, and knew that Snoke would win. Kylo had been betrayed by his family, and lived a lie for too long.

The recent raid went well, but still there was something missing.

There had been an awakening; both he and his master had felt it. The solstice was coming, and while villages celebrated and chased away the dark, it would be a perfect time for another raid.

The omens said differently, however. Kylo felt unprepared, and urged his master to reconsider his plans for another attack. It was not to be, however. Legatus Hux would lead the next attack, not Kylo.

Left to his own devices, Kylo decided to saddle his great black mare, Macha, and head for the ancient tomb at Newgrange. The solstice would be the perfect time for divining, and the energy and magic surrounding the cairn would be perfect. He knew his grandfather obtained the Dagda’s blessing there before his marriage, and he longed to honor his grandfather’s legacy as a great warrior and practitioner.

 _I will finish what you started, Grandfather_ , he knelt and prayed before beginning his journey. He too would obtain the Dagda’s blessing.

He packed his provisions carefully, and left the fort under the cover of night. In the distance he could see bonfires and hear screams; he assumed that it was Hux’s attack rather than a solstice celebration.

Shaking his head, he spurred his horse onward.

 

* * *

Rey had never left her village before.

She held back tears when she felt the magic at the fire by Maz’s side; her tears would do her no good now. She hurried through the forest near her village, clutching her small bag in one hand and the front of her cloak with the other.

There was a rough path through the forest, though she still found herself dodging roots and scrambling over rocks.

In the distance, she heard the nighttime cries of animals, and shuddered. Her staff was strapped to her back, but it wouldn’t be much use against an entire wolfpack.

She was confused about what Maz had told her, and with only her own thoughts for company as she faced the journey ahead of her, she had time to ponder the mysteries in her mind.

 _Magic_.

She could not remember if either of her parents had the gift; if they had, it was not something they discussed with her before they left her with old Master Plutt and promised they’d be back.

Since then, she had waited, carving a small mark for each day in the wall of her small dwelling. She had worked hard, earned her keep, become a valued contributor to the village harvest. She had even made a friend in Finn, despite his experiences fighting for Snoke’s troops.

When they first met, Finn had every intention to just pass through Rey’s village and keep moving on, far away from the pernicious influence of Snoke’s empire. Finn was one of his finest soldiers, yet escaped at the first chance he got.

He was convinced to stay after he helped Rey with a bad ankle sprain, wrapping her ankle and making a poultice for her that they had used in the Emperor’s army. Since then, he had become a gifted healer, one upon whom the entire village called with their aches and pains. He also assisted the village midwife in childbirth when the situation called for it.

He was Rey’s first true friend, and she would miss him terribly. He was the first person to ever ask her if she was okay, and to come looking for her in the fields after a long day of planting or harvesting.

Rey knew Finn would understand that she had to follow the path laid before her, even if he was worried sick about her disappearance. She’d come back for him when she could.  Snoke’s troops were looking for magic users, she knew. If they had raided Tuanul, it was not too far over the ridges to their village.

Newgrange, however, was in the opposite direction, towards the eastern shores by the river Boyne. Rey had never been to the famed river that she knew of, and she smiled to think of fishing for salmon in the famous river. Perhaps the goddess Boann would bless her.

Rey wondered what form her magic would take and what she could learn at Newgrange. She did not doubt that Maz was correct in saying that she would find answers at the ancient cairn associated with the solstice.

Lost in her thoughts, she stumbled over a root. _If only it weren’t so dark_ , she thought, hoping that her efforts to chase away the dark had been enough, hoping that she was blessed by the Tuatha Dé Danann. She kept moving onward, breathing deeply and trusting herself to follow the rugged path through the forest.

She could hear something moving through the forest, and hoped that it did not hear or notice her.


	4. Chapter Three

Headed east for Newgrange, Kylo passed through a thick forest that would lead him to the north shore of the River Boyne. Thankfully, Macha did not fear the dark, nor the forest.

They rode as quickly as Kylo dared through the dark and the underbrush. It would still be many hours before a weak dawn rose, and he wanted to be far away before Legatus Hux noticed his absence from the camp. He was eager to obtain the Dagda’s blessing, as his grandfather had before him. 

His father scorned the gods and their magic; he was frightened by Kylo’s powers. His lack of faith had been his undoing, in the end. 

Kylo and his father had had a good relationship until he went to go study the old ways with his uncle. Uncle Luke had been supposed to help him. 

Had attempted to help him.

Kylo’s innate power was too strong for anyone to know what to do with it, however. The druids had disappeared, taking their knowledge with them, hunted down by the Empire long before Kylo was born. His uncle had heard some of their traditions, but not nearly enough. 

Though Snoke had all but bled it out of him, a small piece of Kylo’s soul regretted what he did. He ignored those twinges, mostly, begging his grandfather to hear him and show him the power of the dark magic once more. 

Kylo’s grandfather no longer answered him. Perhaps the Dagda would. 

Kylo was startled out of his thoughts and prayers when Macha stopped suddenly, just behind a fallen tree. She sniffed, as if something in the scent of the forest had changed. 

Something in the forest  _ had _ changed. Kylo could feel it. 

An awakening. 

Someone else was in the forest, and headed to Newgrange. The air had changed; the forest no longer felt as stagnant and dark. It thrummed with life, with presence. The old, gnarled trees seemed younger and more vigorous, less threatening.

If it had been daylight, Kylo would have sworn the few remaining leaves on the trees had grown greener, that the undergrowth stood straighter and taller, matching the renewed vitality of the trees surrounding them.

Kylo willed Macha to be quiet, and gently nudged her to pass over the fallen tree. He wondered who this mysterious magic user could be--and what they knew.

Their presence felt familiar, somehow, and powerful. As if it had come to him in a dream, in a blessing. It was not the presence of someone he recognized. It seemed calming, and soft despite its newness.

He had many questions that demanded answers.

Perhaps this awakened stranger could provide them.


	5. Chapter Four

Rey could hear the stranger on a horse behind her in the brush even though she couldn’t see them. They were trying to be quiet, but there were signs that Rey knew. 

The forest was dark and calm around her, as if holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen. Rey could feel the forest’s eyes upon her as she held her ground and waited, drawing her staff from her back. 

She could not outrun a horse, and she dared not try to find a place to hide, not knowing whose--or what’s--home it might have been. Many beings made their home in the forest, and Rey knew they were better off left alone. 

She could feel his presence draw closer long before she actually saw him. A sure sign of the magic having awakened in her blood, for he was undoubtedly the same man from her vision by the fire. His armor was fine, and heavy, seemingly sucking the dark shadows of the forest down into it. It was dark, and he was darker yet, a fire’s smoldering embers that could catch and realight at any moment. 

His sword met her staff before either could utter a word. 

They traded blows, the clanging of metal on metal far too loud in the quiet for Rey’s liking. They would surely attract unwanted attention, whether human, animal, or something else that she did not wish to consider at the moment. 

He was taller and stronger than her, and trained in magic besides. 

He came down on her from her right with a powerful blow that she was just able to block, catching her more off-guard than she would have liked. 

And then he froze her in place with his magic. 

She couldn’t move, no matter how hard she tried, tried to figure out how to break past the powerful energy holding her in place. 

When he spoke, all he asked was: “Who are you?”

“I’m no one,” she replied, and meant it. She was no one, had never been anyone that was wanted. She relied on herself, and herself alone, for fourteen years after her family disappeared into the night. 

He tried again. “What is a young woman doing traveling alone during the long dark? Shouldn’t you be feasting and praying with your village?”

“Shouldn’t you be keeping the vigil with your soldiers?” she fired back. 

“I have questions that need to be answered,” he replied. “And it seems you do, too.”

To this, she did not deign a reply, did not dare to allow this dark stranger the truth of that statement.

“You will come with me to Newgrange,” he said, and she had no choice but to be hoisted onto his saddle before him, to feel his powerful magic surrounding her and to be encircled by his armored strength as they continued on their journey. 

He released his magical hold on her body, but seemingly claimed her mind. Rey let the darkness take her, not wishing to continue a fruitless fight.


	6. Chapter Five

Kylo mused on the strange young woman in his arms as they carefully travelled through the forest. There would still be many hours of travel, even on horse, before they would reach the ancient cairn. 

She was clearly a sign of something, but of what? What were the gods trying to tell him?

Her presence felt like spring, even at the dawn of winter. It was incongruous and intoxicating. 

She was the awakening he had felt; he knew it in his bones. 

If trained, she would make a powerful ally. Her magic implied healing and nurturing more than the woman herself with the way she had fought him. He knew how intimidating he looked in his armor, and the way it must have appeared in the dark of the forest. 

He was a vision from a daydream, from a nightmare, and the girl fought him anyway. 

The fire within her would not be easily contained, he knew. 

He wanted to be farther along in the forest before she awoke and demanded answers, answers he was not sure he could give. 

Still he felt that call to the light, even more strongly with another magic user in his arms. Snoke would have ordered him to kill her on sight, and he did not. Leaving her alive was a calculated risk Kylo could not help but take. 

There was something about her that drew him to her. Their paths crossing in the deep of the forest during the long dark was not a coincidence. 

 

* * *

It was a few hours later when she awoke. They were soon to reach the night’s darkest point, and then hopefully only a few more hours would get them out of the forest. They would reach Newgrange by the solstice dawn. 

They had to. It was calling to Kylo almost as strongly as the light. 

The girl stirred in front of him, and he moved his arms in closer to her waist so that she would not slip from the saddle as she regained consciousness.

“Where am I?” she asked, looking about her. 

“You’re my guest,” he said, trying not to frighten her and thus cause Macha to rear, sending them both flying. “We’re still in the forest,” he added, sensing her displeasure at his answer. “We should make Newgrange by the dawn.”

“Why are you taking me to Newgrange?” she asked, and he truly could not answer her, even after reflecting upon that very question during the past hours. 

“You have awakened in your magic. You need a teacher. I can show you the old ways.”

“Why should I trust a creature in a mask?”

Reigning Macha in, he slowly unclasped his helmet and tucked it into his large saddle bag when she stopped. The woman twisted around to look at him, and confusion appeared on her face. 

Kylo felt tendrils of her power reaching out to meet him, recognizing a kindred. His own power crackled in response, reaching out to meet hers. She felt this, and looked even more startled. He longed to see her face in the light, to read her eyes and palms. Their magic swirled around one another, searching each other out, revealing more than what could be with the naked eye in the dark.

Even as he did it, he knew why he nearly always left his helm and armor on rather than removing them. It was a sign of weakness, and an intimacy that he granted her, and he could not say why he had done it for her. A good soldier did not remove their helmet. Kylo’s magic provided him the element of surprise on the battlefield, granted him a power unseen. His helm allowed him to seem even more powerful yet, more frightening. He had taken pride in covering his face the way his grandfather had, unlike the other Roman centurions. 

No one had seen his true face in quite a long time. He lived a solitary existence despite his association with the Empire. 

He felt exposed, and unsure how to proceed. It was too late, and he could see better without his helm anyway. 

“Tell me about your village,” he said, urging Macha to keep going and with the force of suggestion in his voice. 

She had nothing by way of information to offer him, prattling about the petty dramas of Jakku village life. He noted that her village was not far from Tuanul; she had surely heard the news of the raid. She did not mention it, nor did she seem afraid. 

“How did you find your magic?” he asked, and she paused. 

“I had a vision,” she admitted, and then her back became straighter, rising in seeming understanding of something. 

“I saw you,” she said, turning her chin to look back at him once more. “You saved me, from someone who was coming for me with a pike.” She shook her head, recalling the vision that overtook her in the firelight, only wise old Maz noticing. 

“You led the attack on Tuanul, didn’t you?” she whispered, the words seemingly draining her. “You’re one of the Empire’s centurions.”

He would not, could not lie to her. “I led the attack, but I am not a centurion. I am the Master of the Knights of Ren,” he said, but the words seemingly had no impact on her. 

“What was worth all the lives of those innocent people? Your Emperor wants to bring order, but he does so through bloodshed, through wrenching people away from their traditions and twisting the old ways to dark ends.”

“My master is wise, and powerful.”

“But you’re afraid. You’re afraid you’ll never be as powerful,” she spat back at him. He hissed at her, but she kept going. “You’re afraid you’ll never be as powerful as one of the Dagda’s champions.”

He flinched, and pulled back from her, reeling that she had seen through him as clearly as he had seen through her. 

The night’s darkest point had come, and his dark magic should have been at its strongest. The solstice, the shortest day of the year, would dawn in hours, yet the light called to him more strongly than ever. 

“I go to Newgrange to seek the Dagda’s blessing, yes,” he admitted, his voice breaking on the words. 

“The gods do not take kindly to those who would undermine their influence by killing for an Empire that worships elsewhere,” she said, staring straight ahead into the forest.    


They fell silent at that, and he did not know how to regain the conversation. They stopped once, when Macha was slowing. He offered his powerful horse water and an apple, and the woman the same. 

It was when he offered her his skein that he realized he did not know her name. 

“I’m Kylo Ren,” he offered. “And you are?”

“Rey,” she responded, quietly. 

Their destinies were intertwined, the magic was telling him, and it must have been so. He did not know what would happen when they arrived at the great mound, but he knew the threads of fate had drawn him to Rey. 

They mounted Macha, and continued on their journey, only hearing the distant howling of wolves once.

Hours passed, the dark not yielding, and Newgrange beckoned.

 

* * *

The world was quiet around them as they approached the ancient mound, even the mighty River Boyne seeming to cease its flowing.

They waited, and listened, and stepped forward and into the sacred center. 

It was still dark on the interior; dawn would stretch her arms toward their green isle shortly.

The presence of the ancients and their power overwhelmed them, surrounded them, filled them. It was nearly overwhelming, as if the silence were singing and the earth breathing with the power of a pantheon of gods and warriors long gone.

Rey could scarcely breathe, yet the magic forced her to, forced her to draw it within herself with each breath. She was overcome by the ancient power in a way that she had not expected to be. She felt at peace in a way that she had not since her abandonment all those years before. 

She heard rather than saw Kylo walk ahead of her, then he stopped, suddenly, as if waiting. 

Grey was beginning to creep around the entrance, and they stood, waiting for the dawn. 

It came upon them, suddenly and powerfully. The world was enveloped in light from the roofbox above them, and the tomb was illuminated. 

Rey felt warm light embrace her, surround her, become one with her. Truly, this place was blessed by the gods. She felt more full, and alive, than ever she had before.

Kylo fell to his knees before her, his head in his hands, overcome by emotion. She turned away, wishing to allow him his moment with the gods. 

The light surrounded him, called him, embraced him like his long lost mother. He had not allowed himself to realize how desperately he missed her and loved her, even after all they had been through. 

Kylo began to weep. He knew in his innermost self why he had needed to come here, had craved the Dagda’s blessing. He had wanted to be free of his pain, of the conflict within him, and he had found his answer.

He could not receive the Dagda’s blessing subservient to the dark, to the Empire that sought to tame his wild green island home, to make it something it was not and could never be.

He needed his father’s forgiveness, to repair in death the rift he had not wanted to repair in life.

He sank down to his knees and truly prayed, speaking frankly to his ancestor rather than in the desperate, begging manner he had in the past when he was trying to commune with the dark.

_ I have come back to the light, Grandfather. I sought the wrong meaning from your bones, and I am sorry I did not listen to your message. _

Neither his grandfather nor the Dagda answered at that moment, but Kylo was overwhelmed by the light surrounding them. 

Perhaps that was all the answer he needed from the gods and his family.

Rey’s skin glowed in the sunlight, illuminating her eyes. She could have been the goddess Brigid, daughter of the Dagda himself for the way she looked. It took Kylo’s breath away. 

She smiled at him, and took his hand, pressing it gently. 

The new year would begin, and they would greet it together as they had greeted the dawn. The darkest midnight had come, and passed, and they had hailed the light.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second Anthology piece utilizing Irish mythology and history, something about which I'm very proud.
> 
> Comments and constructive feedback always appreciated! You can find me at politicalmamaduck.tumblr.com. Many thanks to my beta boo Desiree, as well as my lovely anthology mod sisters Mer/reylotrashcompactor and Vivien/shelikespretties for their editing skills.


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